Part 1: The Weight of Small Changes
Stonehollow looked exactly the same at a first glance. That was the real problem.
The heavy gates still stood precisely where they always had, their weathered wood reinforced with thick iron bands that had seen far more emergency repairs than actual replacements. Merchants lined the dusty outer streets, calling out prices that shifted dynamically depending on who happened to be listening. Adventurers moved past them in loose, disorganized groups—some loud and boisterous, some entirely quiet, but most desperately trying to look far more confident than they actually felt. The natural rhythm of the town hadn't changed at all.
But the space between things had.
There was a distinct tightness in the air now subtle but persistent, like a conversation that kept abruptly stopping just before something important could be said. The guards stood a little straighter at their posts. Weapons were worn just a little more openly on hips and backs. Even the laughter, though still present, didn't seem to carry nearly as far as it used to.
Adrian walked through the shifting atmosphere without slowing his pace, his hands buried deep in his pockets and his eyes moving just enough to take everything in without drawing any unwanted attention to himself. "Yeah," he muttered under his breath, keeping his expression perfectly blank. "Nothing suspicious about that at all." He adjusted the collar of his coat slightly and kept moving forward.
The Adventurer's Guild hall was significantly worse.
The exact moment he stepped inside, the shift in the room was immediate. It wasn't loud or overly dramatic, but it was noticeable in the precise way ongoing conversations dipped just enough to acknowledge his presence without openly reacting to it. A few heads turned in his direction, while a few others didn't even bother hiding their stares. Recognition had already firmly settled into the room.
"That's him."
"Dread Wolf—"
"He's the one—"
Adrian ignored every whisper, refusing to break his stride or even look in their direction. He walked straight through the center of the hall to the main counter.
The clerk behind it glanced up from her ledger, surprise flickering across her features for a fraction of a second before professional composure settled firmly back into place. "Adrian," she said, straightening her posture. "We've been expecting you."
"I figured," Adrian replied dryly, leaning one forearm against the smooth wood of the counter. "A big angry wolf doesn't exactly go unnoticed."
The clerk allowed herself a small, polite smile, already reaching beneath the counter. When her hand came back up, it carried a sealed leather pouch and a cleanly folded document, both handled with the distinct kind of care reserved for things that truly mattered. "Your reward," she said, sliding them across the polished surface. "And official confirmation of the completed request."
Adrian took the pouch, the substantial weight of the coin settling into his palm immediately. It was heavy, and it would be incredibly useful. He nodded once. "Appreciate it."
A pause hung between them. It wasn't long, but it was just enough time for something unsaid to surface. The clerk leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice just enough to ensure it didn't carry beyond the edge of the counter. "Things are changing," she said softly.
Adrian glanced at her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he read her expression. "Yeah," he replied. "I got that impression."
She hesitated, looking as if there was much more she wanted to say as if she knew far more than she was letting on. But whatever it was, she chose to keep it to herself. "Be careful," she finished.
Adrian gave a small, indifferent shrug. "I'll add it to the list."
The physical weight of the pouch didn't bother him as he turned away from the counter. What truly bothered him was everything else. Eyes lingered on him for far too long. It wasn't admiration, and it wasn't simple curiosity anymore; it was an assessment. People weren't just looking at him anymore they were actively placing him, trying to figure out exactly where he fit in the grand scheme of things, and whether he was ultimately going to be a problem.
"That's nothing new." Adrian muttered to the empty air.
Benjamin wasn't standing beside him to offer a grim comment this time, which somehow made the silence of the guild hall feel even louder.
"Food, I need food" Adrian said to himself. It wasn't a mere suggestion. It was a definitive decision...He needs...food.
The tavern felt like stepping into an entirely different world. Warm light spilled across the polished wooden tables, catching the amber edges of heavy mugs and plates as hearty laughter rose and fell in uneven waves. Conversations overlapped without an ounce of tension, blending into a kind of controlled chaos that felt vibrant and alive rather than unstable. The rich aroma of cooked meat and spilled ale hung comfortably in the air, a familiar sensory comfort that required no active thought to appreciate. For a fleeting moment, it felt normal.
Adrian let that comforting illusion sit for exactly two seconds. Then, his eyes started moving. It was pure habit. Instinct.
His gaze drifted behind the bar, and he froze. The man working there moved with a kind of absolute precision that simply didn't belong in a rugged place like this. His posture wasn't stiff or rigid, but it was incredibly exact. Every single motion had an undeniable purpose. Heavy glasses were set down onto the wood at the precise microsecond they needed to be. Drinks were poured without a single moment of hesitation or adjustment. The man even answered customer conversations while his hands continued working, never once breaking his flawless rhythm. It didn't look flashy or impressive, and that was the real problem it looked completely effortless.
Adrian slowed his pace slightly as he approached the bar, watching the display just long enough to confirm what his instincts were already screaming. "Yeah, That's not normal."
The bartender glanced up, just for a brief second, and their eyes met. There was no hesitation in the man's gaze, and absolutely no surprise. There was only pure, calculating awareness. Then, a polite smile formed on his face.
"Welcome," the man said smoothly. "Take a seat. I'll be right with you."
Adrian paused, just long enough to register the odd weight behind the greeting, before he nodded once and pulled up a stool. Up close, the impression only worsened. Everything about the man felt controlled in a way that cleverly avoided drawing attention to itself. His posture was relaxed, his movements entirely natural, and his expression perfectly easy but underneath it all lurked something much sharper. Something that actively noticed more than it ever should.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, his hand already reaching seamlessly for a clean glass.
"Something that doesn't try to kill me, you know the usual" Adrian replied, matching the man's casual demeanor.
The bartender smiled faintly. "Then you're in the wrong line of work."
"Yeah," Adrian said, leaning against the counter. "I'm starting to notice but still kinda cool."
The drink was placed in front of him fast, but it didn't feel rushed at all. The timing was absolutely perfect. Adrian looked down at the liquid for a second before glancing back up. "You're good at this."
The bartender gave a small, modest shrug. "I try." There was a brief pause before he extended a hand. "Evans," he added. "If you need anything."
Adrian nodded slowly, taking the glass. "Adrian."
"I know."
The words landed simply, carrying no dramatic emphasis and no further explanation. It was just a fact. Known.
Adrian stared at him for a second longer than necessary, his mind working through the implications. "Right, little strange but we move" He took a slow sip of the drink. It was exceptionally good. Of course it was.
He didn't stay long after that not because anything was overtly wrong, but because something felt fundamentally not right. It was a subtle, quiet wrongness, but it was undeniably there. Adrian stood up, sliding a few coins across the counter. "I'll be back Hopefully"
Evans nodded once, wiping down the wood. "I'll be here." Of course he would be.
Outside the tavern doors, the open air felt significantly cooler and cleaner. Adrian stepped onto the dirt street, rolling his shoulder slightly as the tight tension in his body adjusted to the wide space again. The muffled noise of the tavern quickly faded behind him, replaced by the steady, ambient rhythm of the frontier town.
Then, he saw her, and everything suddenly slowed down. It wasn't dramatic, and it didn't feel like the world had completely stopped spinning. It just paused long enough for him to truly notice.
Elena stood a short distance away, her posture relaxed but steady. The wind moved gently around her form, swirling as if it had actively chosen her direction over its own. The fading light caught softly in the strands of her hair, and for a sudden, jarring moment, Adrian forgot what he had even been thinking about entirely. "Right," shaking himself out of the daze. "That's strange but another world tends to do that."
He began walking toward her, trying and failing miserably to look completely unaffected.
"You're staring," Elena said gently, her voice calm. She hadn't even turned around to face him.
"I prefer Observing." Adrian corrected smoothly.
She glanced over her shoulder at him now, a small, genuine smile forming on her lips. "Poorly."
"Yeah, I geuss so..." he admitted with a faint smirk.
A brief pause stretched between them, comfortable and deeply familiar. Adrian rubbed the back of his neck slightly, glancing away at the street for a second before fixing his eyes back on her. "We make a good team," he said softly. "That combo back there... worked better than I expected."
Elena studied him for a long moment, her soft expression hardening just a fraction. "It did," she said, before a small pause hung in the air. "But it was too close for comfort."
Adrian let out a quiet, heavy breath. "Yeah. That part I noticed the claws you know...Cutting threw my clothing and all."
She stepped a little closer to him, her presence radiating a calm but steady authority as the air around her shifted subtly in response to her movements. "You rely on instinct," she noted. "It works... until it doesn't."
"And you don't?" Adrian asked, raising an eyebrow.
Her dark gaze flickered slightly. "I choose when to, but knowing what too do is just as or more inportant" she replied.
Adrian smiled faintly at the distinction. "That sounds like something I should learn."
"Eventually, but will take time" she said. There was something light in her tone, almost teasing, but it wasn't unkind.
Suddenly, the wind shifted. It wasn't a strong gust, but it was enough to make the hairs on Adrian's arms stand up. Elena's expression changed only slightly, but Adrian noticed the shift immediately. "You feel that too?" he asked, his voice dropping.
She nodded once, her eyes turning toward the horizon. "Shadowfen isn't quiet anymore."
Adrian exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting past the edge of town to where the tree line ended and the dark, treacherous marshlands stretched out into the distance. "Yeah, Figured we wouldn't get that lucky."
Elena looked back at him, her face calm and entirely certain. "We won't," she said, pausing briefly. "But we'll handle it."
Adrian met her steady gaze, feeling the weight of the coming storm. Then, he nodded. "Yeah," he said firmly. "We will."
Part 2 Things That Don't Stay Hidden
The house was quiet when Adrian got back. It wasn't empty never empty but it had settled in a way that felt deliberate, as if the walls themselves had decided this was exactly where things would stay. The faint creak of old wood under shifting weight, the soft hum of distant traffic outside, and the quiet clatter from the kitchen all blended into something steady, predictable, and safe. Adrian stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click. For a moment, he just stood there in the entryway, letting the profound stillness settle over him. There was no mana pressing at the raw edges of his senses, no unseen presence watching from the dark trees, and no primal instinct screaming at him to move. It was just... home.
"Weird," he muttered to himself.
The smell of food drifted toward him before he even reached the kitchen threshold. It was warm and familiar, grounding him in a way that nothing in the fantastical realm of Eryndor ever quite managed to be. His grandmother stood at the stove, moving with the same quiet efficiency she always had. Every single motion was measured and completely unhurried, as though time itself moved on a slower, gentler schedule whenever she was working.
"You're late," she noted without turning around.
"Other world runs on a different schedule," Adrian replied, leaning his shoulder lightly against the wooden doorway.
"Hm now you are just making excuses."
He stepped fully into the kitchen, glancing briefly at what she was simmering on the stovetop before shifting his attention to the cabinets.
"Need help?" he asked.
"You can set the table."
Adrian nodded once, grabbing the stack of plates. "Promotion."
"It's temporary." she laughs to herself
Dinner passed the way it always did between them. It wasn't silent, but it wasn't particularly filled either. Conversation came and went entirely naturally, with small remarks slipping into the comfortable space between them without needing to carry the weight of anything heavier. It was the kind of precious quiet that didn't ask questions or demand explanations.
Halfway through the meal, she glanced up from her plate and fixed her wise eyes on him. "You've been busy."
Adrian didn't look up from his food. "Bit."
"You look like it."
"I feel like it but I am enjoying my self."
She nodded slightly, and that was enough.
After dinner, she moved behind his chair, just like she always did. Her fingers brushed gently through his thick hair in slow, familiar strokes, smoothing it back into place with a quiet, maternal care.
"You're getting messy again," she said softly.
Adrian leaned his head back slightly into her touch, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. "I fought a war with a spoon today and I am quite lethal."
"Hm." A small pause stretched between them. "And the spoon won?"
"well...It was a strong spoon...wait no I fought with not against?"
Her fingers stilled in his hair for just a brief second, then continued their rhythmic, soothing motion. "You'll tell me eventually," she said quietly.
Adrian didn't answer. It wasn't because he wanted to keep secrets from her, but simply because he didn't even know how to begin putting his other life into words.
Later that night, the basement light flickered on. The soft, blue-white glow of the monitor cut through the dim, underground space, casting long, geometric shadows against the bare concrete walls as Adrian sat down at his desk. The office chair creaked slightly under his weight as he leaned forward, his fingers hovering silently over the keyboard. The screen was completely blank, save for a solitary cursor blinking steadily, waiting for him.
"Alright, time for some writing"
His hands rested on the home row for a moment longer than necessary. Then, they moved. Time began to slip away—not quickly, and not slowly, but with a steady, unyielding momentum. Words formed rapidly on the digital canvas, sentences building into something much larger as creative ideas flowed with a sudden clarity he hadn't anticipated. The narrative structure came easier to him now, the pacing feeling far more natural, as if his mind had started organizing his thoughts differently without asking for his permission first.
She Only Teases in French – Volume 2.
The light novel title sat proudly at the top of the page, simple and familiar. Beneath it, something entirely new began to take shape.
Morning came with significantly less warning than he would have preferred.
Adrian stood outside the local mall with a rusted rake in his hand, staring down at a pathetic patch of yellowed grass that looked like it had completely given up on life sometime last week.
"I've fought things stronger than this lawn,"
A passing coworker nearby overheard him and snorted. "Then why does it look like it's winning?"
Adrian glanced down at the uneven, overgrown mess in front of his boots. "Good question might a stronger lawn then I thought SAVE ME!"
The retail landscaping work was simple, repetitive, and predictable in a way that absolutely should have been boring. Leaves were gathered into neat piles, edges were mechanically trimmed, and dirt was cleared from the concrete walkways. They were the exact kind of mundane tasks that didn't require a shred of complex thought just steady, physical movement and a patience for time to pass.
But his mind refused to stay anchored to the mall parking lot. It drifted constantly, swinging back and forth like a pendulum between two wildly different worlds. He was stuck in the jarring contrast between what he was currently doing, and what he could be doing out in the wild unknown.
The sound cut through everything. It was sharp, violent, and fundamentally wrong.
Adrian's head snapped up instantly. Tires screamed against the hot asphalt, the horrific sound tearing through the morning air as a car violently veered off course. It was moving far too fast, completely uncontrolled, and heading straight toward someone who hadn't even realized what was happening yet. There was no time, no space, and no room for conscious thought.
Something moved inside him. It wasn't fully him, but it wasn't fully separate either. From his arm, a ripple manifested...subtle, lightning-fast, and deadly precise. Something stretched outward, translucent for a fraction of a second, looking like liquid given physical shape just long enough to exist. It shot forward, barely visible and barely real, and then it stopped the vehicle.
The violent impact never happened. The kinetic force folded completely inward, redirected in a supernatural way that defied physics, halting the car just short of where it should have crushed through everything in its path.
A suffocating silence followed. It wasn't natural, and it wasn't expected. It was just entirely still.
"Did you see that?"
"What was that—?"
"I thought—"
Adrian stood exactly where he was, his rusted rake still gripped firmly in his hand. His breathing remained perfectly steady, as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. "Lucky timing," he said casually to the gathering crowd.
No one argued with him, because in truth, no one actually knew what they had just witnessed.
He left work early. It wasn't because anyone in management told him to, but simply because staying in that parking lot didn't make any sense anymore.
The television was already on by the time he got back home. His grandmother sat in the dim living room, watching quietly as the screen flickered with the kind of performative urgency that only came from a news anchor who believed what they were saying mattered far more than it probably did.
Adrian stepped across the threshold, then paused mid-stride. On the screen, a man leaned forward slightly, his voice carrying a sharp, unmistakable Irish accent that cut cleanly through the broadcast static.
"And I'm telling you right now this is not normal!"
Adrian let out a soft, defeated sigh. "Of course it's not but many things are not...Normal."
The news anchor continued, his frenetic energy building with every spoken word. "This is the second incident! A construction site last week now this? Witnesses are reporting movement where there should be none!"
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "That's worse."
His grandmother glanced over her shoulder at him. "You saw this?"
Adrian hesitated for a mere fraction of a second, choosing his words carefully. "Something like it."
She studied his face briefly, her wise eyes seeing right through him, then gave a slow nod. "Be careful you worked there today." There was no explosive panic in her voice, and no heavy pressure. There was just pure, unadulterated care.
On the screen, the anchor leaned in even closer to the camera, his voice lowering just enough to suggest absolute importance. "I'm not saying it's something unnatural," he said, letting a beat of silence hang in the air. "I'm saying it's definitely something unnatural!"
Adrian stared blankly at the television screen. "You seem confident."
Later that night, the house grew deeply quiet again, but it wasn't the same kind of comforting quiet as before. Adrian stood near the dark doorway of his bedroom, staring blankly at nothing in particular. His thoughts replayed the parking lot incident over and over not the chaotic event itself, but the terrifying feeling behind it. The exact way his body had moved.
Without his permission. Without a shred of hesitation.
"Yeah, That's going to be a problem but thats future adrian's problem."
Part 3 The Blade That Moves Like Water
The return to Eryndor no longer felt like crossing a boundary. It felt like stepping into a place that had already completely adjusted to him. The air settled differently against his skin—denser, heavily threaded with a current of mana that thrummed just beneath the surface of everything. It wasn't overwhelming, not anymore. His body recognized the magic now, responding to it without a shred of hesitation, as if the realm had quietly rewritten something fundamental in his biology without ever asking for his permission.
That thought lingered in his mind longer than it should have.
Adrian stood just outside the dirt path leading toward Stonehollow, the distant outline of the town barely visible through the shifting tree line. The forest stretched around him in an uneven silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or a distant movement that didn't quite belong to anything familiar. He exhaled slowly, trying to shake the unease. "Getting used to this," he muttered. "Probably not a good sign."
Suddenly, the wind shifted. It wasn't a sharp or violent gust, but it was just enough to carry something entirely unfamiliar with it. Adrian's gaze lifted slightly, his attention narrowing as a deep instinct took over not the immediate, reactive panic, but something much quieter. Observational. Measuring.
He noticed the man before the man ever acknowledged him.
The stranger was standing just off the road, positioned in a way that clearly suggested he wasn't resting or merely waiting he was just there. His posture was remarkably relaxed, but not loose. It was controlled and perfectly balanced. Every part of his body was held with a quiet, lethal intent, looking as though movement could happen at any given microsecond and would absolutely not be wasted when it did. A formidable blade rested at his side. It wasn't decorative; it had been used, and used often.
Adrian slowed his pace as he approached, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Okay, That's either a problem now or a future problem. nah future problem"
The man turned his head, and their eyes met. There was no hesitation in his gaze no idle curiosity and no surprise. There was only an immediate, cold assessment, as if Adrian had already been fully accounted for the exact moment he stepped into visual range.
Adrian raised a hand slightly in a casual greeting. "Hey." When a brief pause stretched between them, he looked at the stranger's distinct armor. "Samurai?" Adrian added.
The man blinked once, his expression unreadable. "What is a samurai?"
Adrian hesitated, clearing his throat. "Right. Wrong world."
The man straightened his posture slightly, the movement subtle but highly deliberate. "I am a Kensei," he said.
Adrian nodded, adjusting to the new term. "That sounds important?"
There was a heavy beat of silence in the clearing. Then, the man's eyes darted just past Adrian's shoulder. "Please duck."
Adrian didn't question the command. He didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second. His body moved before the conscious thought could fully form in his mind, dropping low as a primal survival instinct snapped into place and the sound came right with it.
It was a low, guttural growl that tore violently through the air behind him, a sound sharp enough to pull a dark memory from the depths of his mind before he could even turn around to face it. Recognition hit him first, and it hit him hard.
A Thornmaw.
The nightmare creature lunged. Massive, jagged claws carved viciously through the exact space where Adrian's head had been a mere fraction of a second earlier, tearing through the air with enough sheer force to leave a whistling sound behind them. Its monstrous body was wrong in every way that mattered—it was far too large, too dense, with horrific muscles coiled tightly beneath a thick, scarred hide. Its smaller, twitching head locked forward onto them with a singular, murderous intent.
Adrian's body reacted out of pure muscle memory, but his mind for a terrifying split second completely froze.
Suddenly, he was back there. The first time he had faced one. The exact same sound echoing in his ears. The exact same crushing pressure in the air. The exact same terrifying understanding that if he moved wrong, even by an inch, he wouldn't get another chance to breathe.
Then, something cut through the panic. It was clean, blindingly precise, and entirely unavoidable.
The Kensei stepped forward. His movement was almost quiet enough to miss a single, fluid shift of weight that transitioned into lethal action without a single millimeter of wasted motion. The blade left its sheath in one smooth, blinding arc, and for a brief moment, it looked like nothing more than polished steel catching the fading forest light.
Then, water followed.
It wasn't summoned or cast like a traditional spell. Instead, it moved in perfect tandem with the blade, wrapping around the steel in a rushing, pressurized current that bent entirely to his motion. It accelerated the strike, sharpening it and becoming a physical part of the weapon rather than something separate. The strike landed exactly once.
The Thornmaw split cleanly in two.
There was no physical resistance, no struggle, and no need for a second movement. It was just finished. A heavy, profound silence followed, thick with the reality of what had just happened. The creature's massive body collapsed into two uneven halves, hitting the dirt with a dull, heavy thud that somehow felt much smaller than it should have been.
Adrian stayed crouched in the dirt for a second longer than necessary. His breathing remained steady and controlled, but his eyes refused to leave the bisected remains. "Yeah," he muttered quietly to himself. "I really hate those things."
"You hesitated."
The calm voice pulled him back to the present. Adrian stood up slowly, brushing the loose dirt from his palms as he straightened his posture. His expression was already settling back into its usual neutral mask. "Yeah, Slight trauma ptsd you know...working on it."
The Kensei studied him closely. His gaze wasn't critical or dismissive; it was just quietly observing. "You've faced them before," he noted.
"Once...Kind of" Adrian replied, looking back at the stranger. "Once was enough."
A faint, subtle shift passed over the man's features. It was incredibly minor, but it was there. Understanding. He sheathed his blade in one smooth, practiced motion. "My name is Vaelith Stormveil."
Adrian nodded. "Adrian."
"I know."
Adrian paused, a dry look crossing his face. "That's becoming a pattern."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The forest around them settled again, but the peace was incomplete. Something unseen lingered beneath the trees now something much quieter than a roaring Thornmaw, but no less dangerous.
Adrian glanced back toward the bloody remains, then turned his attention fully to the warrior. "You're not from around here."
Vaelith shook his head slightly. "No I am not."
"Let me guess," Adrian continued, crossing his arms. "You're here for something important, probably dangerous, and definitely not simple."
Vaelith didn't answer immediately, letting the accusation hang in the air. Then, he gave a single, firm nod. "Yes."
Adrian let out a quiet, exasperated breath. "Of course you are."
Vaelith's gaze shifted past him, looking toward the distant outline of Stonehollow. His expression remained entirely calm, but his sharp attention was clearly elsewhere. "There are disturbances," he said softly. "Not isolated. Not random."
Adrian crossed his arms a little tighter. "There are always disturbances I mean you saw one just now."
"Not like this."
That single statement successfully got his attention. Vaelith looked at him directly, his eyes locking onto Adrian's. "There are signs of emergence," he said. A heavy pause stretched between them before he dropped the final word. "A dungeon."
The word settled over the clearing much heavier than expected. Adrian blinked once, his cynical expression shifting just enough to show he understood exactly what that meant for the region. "you are joking right ther eis now wa-...You're serious."
"Yes."
Adrian exhaled slowly, casting his own glance toward the distant silhouette of Stonehollow's walls. "That's—" He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly. "That's not good." quietly excited.
Vaelith studied his reaction. "You understand the implications."
Adrian nodded grimly. "Yeah. Money. Power. People killing each other over both." He paused briefly, his voice dropping an octave. "And if it's left too long—"
"The break," Vaelith finished.
Adrian nodded again, a dark weight settling in his chest. "Yeah. That."
The wind shifted once more, blowing stronger this time and carrying something distinctly heavier with it. Vaelith's stoic expression didn't change in the slightest. "I was sent from the Golden Plains to confirm it," he explained. "If the rumors are true... this region will not remain stable."
Adrian let out a quiet, mirthless breath. "It wasn't stable before."
"It will be worse."
Adrian considered the warning for a moment, then gave a small, almost resigned nod. "Yeah," he said. "That sounds about right." He glanced once more at the dead Thornmaw, then back at the swordsman. "You're good," he noted.
Vaelith didn't react to the praise. "I've had practice."
Adrian smirked slightly. "Yeah. I can tell."
He turned back toward the main road to Stonehollow, adjusting his posture as he started walking again. "Well," he said, his voice returning to its usual dry cadence, "guess things just got more complicated."
Vaelith stepped into motion right beside him, his movements silent and steady. Behind them, the forest settled once more into silence. But it was entirely different now. Something fundamental had shifted in Eryndor and this time, it wasn't just the monsters.